Page 40 of False Start, Real Passion
He laughs. “Exactly.”
And just like that, we’re no longer a PR stunt or a strategy.
We’re just us.
Real. Messy. In love.
And maybe a little reckless.
But finally—finally—exactly where we’re supposed to be.
Epilogue
No More Contracts
Six Months Later
IneverthoughtI’dsay this, but I’m dating Jaxon Reid—for real—and somehow, the world hasn’t imploded.
In fact... it’s thriving.
We’ve survived the media frenzy, the interviews, the skeptical stares, and the endless articles trying to figure out when our “PR relationship” became something more. I stopped answering that question after the third week. Because honestly? It’s none of their damn business.
He’s mine. That’s all that matters.
“Babe!” Jaxon’s voice carries from the kitchen. “Where’s that contract you made me sign? The one that said no mixing business with pleasure?”
I smirk from my place on the couch, laptop balanced on my thighs. “Check the bottom drawer in the office. Next to all the things wedefinitelydon’t use professionally.”
A beat of silence.
Then: “Are you telling me there’s a pair of fuzzy handcuffs in here?”
I don’t even look up. “Maybe.”
He strolls back into the room holding the original PR agreement between two idiots who thought they could fake a relationship without falling in love. He waves it dramatically.
“I want to formally renegotiate this clause right here,” he says, pointing. “The part where you insisted on ‘strict professionalism.’ Clearly, we’re in violation.”
I laugh, setting my laptop aside. “That contract’s void the moment you kissed me on my couch.”
“Correction,” he says, kneeling between my legs, mischief in his eyes. “Youkissedme.I was the innocent one.”
I snort. “You were never innocent.”
He leans in, brushing his lips along my jaw. “Still not.”
I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull him in for a proper kiss—slow, hot, deep. When we finally part, his grin is lazy and satisfied.
“So,” he murmurs, hands sliding under my shirt, “do I need to draft a new agreement? Something more... long-term?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you proposing to me with foreplay?”
His smile turns into something softer. “Would it work?”
I stare at him, heart full. “Maybe.”
He kisses me again, this time gentler, slower. Less heat—more promise.
“You changed my life, Tori Michaels,” he says.
I smile, brushing a hand down his cheek. “We changed each other.”
Outside, the city hums. Inside, the only thing that matters is us.
No more faking it.
No more contracts.
Just love—and maybe the occasional PR scandal we’ll handle... together.
